Title: Easy
Notes: Jesse's POV – some thoughts before the egging scene in 'Funk'
Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends. – Victor Hugo
He honestly thought it would be harder. After all, this was the girl that he'd been strangely infatuated and obsessed with for the past couple of months. He truly thought it'd be harder to hurt her.
Yet, when he smashed the egg against her forehead, the action was simple. It required almost no effort. He just lifted his hand to her head, pressed the fragile shell against her soft skin and applied pressure.
Crack.
It was simple. It had to be. It was easier for everyone that way.
He refused to acknowledge that this was the one girl that he felt even a semblance of anything for in his entire eighteen years of existence. She was the one girl that made him feel a twinge of something foreign.
Guilt. Love. Passion. Longing. Betrayal. Disappointment. Want. Need. Desire.
She made him feel.
It scared him. He was never close with his family and always found the satisfaction and sense of belonging he had desperately craved through music and Vocal Adrenaline. The group had been his family, for lack of a better word, for the past four years.
He couldn't abandon them. And, especially not for something as volatile and uncertain as a possible romance with one, Rachel Berry.
Vocal Adrenaline was safe. Rachel Berry was not.
He can feel the egg yolk against the palm of his hand. It's sticky. He watches as the yellow liquid oozes down her face but he does not flinch.
It's been engrained into his mind. No emotion. It was a sign of weakness. Failure.
Jesse St. James could not be a failure. He was a star. He was different. He was unique.
Yet, as he stood there in that moment, Rachel Berry in front of him staring defiantly up at him, lip quivering, eyes watering but still refusing to cry, he couldn't help but begin to feel that doubt gnaw at his heart.
Was this the right choice?
When she looked up at him with her big brown eyes flashing with accusation and contempt, he felt the need to explain himself.
"I loved you."
He doesn't know why he says it. The words slip past his lips before he can stop himself. It's not an excuse and a small part of him knows he shouldn't be doing this.
But, he does it anyway.
The egg is smashed. The yolk is trickling down her beautiful face. Egg shells lie like broken promises on the ground around them.
He used the past tense. It's a valid statement in the present.
She can't know. And, she never will. He won't let himself make the same mistake twice. He won't tell her again.
Rachel Berry was everything that he was not. She felt so much in one instant, in that moment, that she could barely contain herself. It was taking everything inside her right now not to burst with emotion and feeling. That was what made her beautiful.
That was what drew him to her in the first place.
She was the heart and soul of New Directions. Rachel Berry felt. And, that was what made her special. When she sang, she sang with her body, soul, and heart.
Jesse St. James and Vocal Adrenaline did not.
He couldn't feel. He refused to let himself.
So, smashing the egg against her forehead was easy.
It was simple. It had to be.